


Flames in Our Viens

by betweentheskies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Artist Zayn, Drunk Liam, Fluff, M/M, drunk!liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweentheskies/pseuds/betweentheskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Liam gets drunk and he, sometimes, finds his way to Zayn's place because that's what his instinct tells him to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flames in Our Viens

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda stink at summaries  
> But basically Liam sometimes gets drunk and goes to Zayn because Zayn has always been there to take care of him, so what better time to need some care than when you're drunk?
> 
> (title is lyrics from The Maine's 'Love and Drugs' because it just felt right)

They all call it a "creative burst", but it's just a fancy way of saying that sometimes Zayn gets these random bursts of creativity that causes him to hole himself up in his house. More specifically, in the extra bedroom that he converted into his art room. The room where the walls are spray-painted with mindless things and there were different canvases, both finished and unfinished, lying on the floor and resting against the walls.

 

Sometimes Zayn forgets about times and dates when he's in this weird mood. The only time scale he works off of is that, if he's not hungry or has to use the bathroom, he stays behind the closed door. More than once he's fallen asleep on the black futon he has shoved against the corner, too tired to walk across the flat to his more-comfortable-than-this-old-futon bed. It's worth it, though. Worth waking up and falling asleep with the smell of paint heavy in the air, mixed with smoke. With paint dried and crusted on his hands, sometimes making their way onto his clothes and even his face.

 

  
The outside world doesn't register in Zayn's mind, so that's why he's a bit surprised when he turns on his phone for the first time in two days and sees the green little messaging app have a red  _13_  on it. The most recent text was sent three hours ago, at about eight, and it was Louis asking if he wanted to go out tonight. Zayn softly chuckled to himself. He even had to admit that it sounded odd, the sound bouncing off the walls a bit. He wasn't used to hearing anything besides that of a spraycan.

 

But he figured that replying three hours later, nearing 11:30, wouldn't do. So he left the message read but not replied too, looking at the other twelve in his inbox. One was from Niall and another from Harry, asking the same thing. Five were from other random people in his contacts; Ant, Dan, his mother. The other five were from Liam, all sent over the course of the two days the phone was off. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he read the messages. He didn't know why, but smiling seemed like an automatic response when it came to anything Liam related.

 

The first three went like this:

 

_ come watch batman with meee _

__

_ ill even let you draw me ;) _

__

_ dont me lame z _

"Lame"? That's the worst Liam could do? A soft scoff left Zayn's lips that he remember that this is Liam we're talking about. Of course he's going to use the lamest insults out there. 

The last two were sent around the time Louis sent his.

_ zaaayn come dance with us _

__

_ pleaase u know i need my dancing partner _

Once more Zayn scoffed. Both he and Liam were horrible dancers, and the only time they ever even considered dancing was when they were shit faced. Zayn locked his phone and let it slide across the counter. He heated up some leftover pizza and actually sat at the six person dining table for once in his life. He liked these quiet moments where he got to sit with his own mind. Where he didn't have to try and organize his mind while being bombarded with screaming fans and the constant clicks of paparazzi's cameras. It was nice, pleasant, soothing.

He sat there for half and hour before dumping his paper plate and, unsurprisingly, returned to his art room. Instead of absorbing himself in silence, he plugged his phone into a speaker and turned up one of his favorite playlists - loud. Loud enough to the point where, hey, people may complain but he honestly could give a lesser damn. He had his paintings and now his music. A few complaints wouldn't stop him.

\---

He almost didn't hear the banging on his door; he was too busy belting out Usher, laughing to himself as he moved his hips to one of the more bass-filled songs. He placed a black spray can on a shelf, stretching his fingers from their cramped state. As the song ended, there were a few seconds of silence. That's when he heard the banging on the door. It started off loud and then by the fourth or fifth knock, it had faded and seemed like whoever was knocking had given up. Or was too tired.

Zayn shut off his music and frowned a bit as he slowly walked down the small hall and across the living room. Everyone was out tonight, so it was probably one of his neighbors. When he opened the door, his eyes widened a bit when the door frame was filled with the Liam's figure. He was leaning against the door frame, his arm still raised as if he were going to knock again. It took him a few seconds to realize that the door was opened, but when he connected the dots a wide smile appeared on his face. The type of smile that made his eyes crinkle and made Zayn's heart clench a bit. 

"Zaaaaaayn," he drawled out, pushing his way into the apartment. He stumbled a bit but quickly caught himself on the leather armchair Zayn liked to sit in. He had a full couch and all, but the chair was conformed to his shape and was possibly just as comfortable as his bed. Zayn shook his head, shutting the door and shoving his hands deep in the pocket of his sweats. 

"Liam, how much did you drink tonight?" Zayn asked, amusement in his voice as he took a few steps towards Liam. The younger boy turned around, sitting down on the arm of the chair. The leather was smooth, though, and that caused him to slide back and sit in the chair sideways. Zayn didn't understand how this could be funny, but Liam did and ended up giggling for a few seconds before pressing his lips together and humming to himself.

"Couple of shots," he paused, seeming like he was trying to remember what he actually drank, "there were a few pretty colored drinks. Mhmmm, yeah, Louis always picks out the nicest drinks," he nodded to himself, shooting a blinding smile up to Zayn.

"You need to go to bed, Liam," Zayn said, grabbing Liam's wrist and trying to pull him up. Liam was bulked up more, more of his weight being muscle, and that in turn made him a bit heavier. Zayn leaned back on his feet a bit and, with much effort, managed to pull Liam up onto his feet. And against his chest.

Liam was not that much taller that Zayn. Under an inch, at most. But when his thinner shoulders were flush with Liam's wider shoulders and his chest was flush with Liam's bulkier one, Zayn forgot what he was doing for a second. Where did he say he was gonna take Liam? Why did Liam even show up again? He was dragged out of his thoughts when a pair of hands gripped his waist and gave a hard squeeze.

Zayn blinked up at Liam, his mouth slightly agape. Sure he thought about how nice Liam's hands would be to hold, or how they felt rubbing circles on his back, but oh they felt so much nicer placed nicely on his hips.

And those lips. Those pink lips that always looked so kissable and bitable were just a few inches from his own and they looked so nice and tempting this close. And he thought that maybe,  _maybe_  Liam was going to kiss him. Even if it was a drunk kiss, Zayn would be fine with that. Liam even started to move his hands in soft circles and just and Zayn's eyes started to close right when Liam let out another little giggle. Zayn's eyes fully opened and he tried his best to not let out a whiny groan when Liam let go of his hips and stumbled off towards Zayn's bedroom.

Zayn was a bit hesitant now. He didn't what to expect from Liam now. Would he let the alcohol run his mind? Would he use the alcohol as a cover for what he's doing? He highly doubted that Liam was smart enough to do that. Liam didn't drink enough to gain a higher tolerance for alcohol. Plus, he was drinking with Louis and was guaranteed to get shitfaced by the end of the night.

So Zayn trudged along and saw one of Liam's shoes abandoned in the short hall and the other a few steps into his room. Liam was face down on the bed, hardly in a position to where Zayn could try and squeeze in (of course there was the futon but, no, that wasn't a likely option to sleep on tonight).

Walking over to his probably-already-passed-out-mate, the dark-haired boy tried his best to help Liam at least get comfortable. He started by taking off the leather jacket he had on, which was Zayn's suggestion to start wearing, actually. Next, and with much lip biting and chewing, he turned Liam over gently and started to pull off his jeans. They were tight around his legs and would be uncomfortable to sleep in, right? Right. Of course. He would hate to sleep in uncomfortable jeans.

 

When the jeans were off, Liam let out a slight groan. He shifted a bit, letting out a content sound when he realized how much more comfortable he was. "You always take care of me, Zee," Liam murmured, shifting and rustling on the bed, eyes still closed, until he was in a better position on one side of Zayn's bed. He rolled to the other side and, in the process, pulled the comforter and sheets and covered himself with the now-upside down sheets. 

 

Zayn shook his head, wondering if Liam was always like this when he was drunk. He honestly didn't drink enough with Liam to know what he was like when he was drunk. Louis got louder, if possible, and decided that any person was a good dancing or snogging partner. Harry had a large smile glued to his face and he seemed to prefer sitting around and watching others have fun than actually dancing himself. Niall did everything; he danced and sang and snogged and was generally a good person to drink with. Zayn wondered what he was like. He didn't get to loud, didn't really get into the "party mode" a lot. All he was really willing to do was let the alcohol let the mortification of dancing with a large crowd disappear.

 

"Zaaa _aaayyyn_ ," Liam whined once more, rustling a bit. He threw out his arm, rubbing it up and down the empty space where he was, what, expecting Zayn to be? Was that it? Zayn turned from biting his lip to basically gnawing at it now. Finally he let out a small sigh, hesitantly stepping towards the bed.

 

Why should he be feeling nervous, though? It was his bed, after all. And Liam was his good mate, that's all. He was simply drunk off his ass and needed a little comfort. He pulled back the rearranged sheets and climbed under them, getting comfortable on his back. He was a few inches from Liam, and even from that distance he could feel his body heat. And smell the alcohol, but for some reason he felt like it was much stronger a few hours back. 

 

He tensed for a few second when Liam shifted over, putting an arm around Zayn's middle and pressing himself up against his side. He nuzzled his head against his shoulder and Zayn tentatively wrapped his arm around Liam, and after a few seconds he started to rub his hand in small circles. It was apparently a good move before Liam let out a content sound.

 

"You smell like paint," Liam mumbled out, and Zayn felt some goosebumps form from where Liam's breath brushed against his skin.

 

"You smell like alcohol," Zayn shot back, though his voice was teasing and he knew that even a drunk Liam would be able to detect that.

 

Zayn kind of liked this. Liked the feeling of Liam pressed up against his side, a warm and muscular mass that felt nice under his fingertips. He felt more relaxed when his breath matched Liam's. And faintly, faintly, under the harsh alcohol, he could pick up Liam's cologne. The one he helped him pick out once a long time ago.

 

"Goodnight, Zee," Liam barely whispered out, his voice sleep-filled and heavy-sounding. Zayn knew Liam was probably asleep by now, so instead of responding with words he made a little humming noise. He kept his hand moving in circles, slower now, aiding to Liam's sleep. All of this might even be able to help Zayn sleep, too, since he was already getting tired himself. Usually it took him a good hour to even get close to starting to drift off.

 

But now he felt his eyelids getting heavier, his breathing getting deeper, his mind starting to drift off. So what if Liam was drunk. So what if he woke up and might leave in the morning (which was highly unlikely for Liam's character, but he had to consider all options). So what if Liam might freak out that he wakes up, since he probably forgot most of tonight?

 

Those were all problems for the morning, when it came, and for now Zayn was peaceful. Comfortable and warm, too. He was sure Liam was feeling the same way as well.

 

So, for now, Zayn could deal with a drunk Liam

 

Just as long as he got to be close to him like he was now.


End file.
